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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467348">That's Not Her Style</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aserene/pseuds/aserene'>aserene</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Expressing the Inexpressible [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCIS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Songfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:41:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aserene/pseuds/aserene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny ends up in the tabloids.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jethro Gibbs/Jenny Shepard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Expressing the Inexpressible [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>That's Not Her Style</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>2020 is (almost) over! I couldn't finish the next chapter for Bella Noche, but I wanted you guys to have something to read tonight. From the archives, one of my songfic collection.</p>
<p>Please start Billy Joel's That's Not Her Style and pour yourself some bubbly (or sparkling juice for the kids).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Some people think that she's one of those mink-coated ladies</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>They say she wakes up at one</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>And makes the paparazzi run till dawn</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>She wines and dines with Argentines and Kuwaitis</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>After she sips margaritas on the White House lawn</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have got to see this!” DiNozzo announced loudly as he threw the copy of the</span>
  <em>
    <span> DC Times Gossip </span>
  </em>
  <span>on Ziva’s desk. Ziva picked it up and turned to the marked page. It was a picture of a familiar redhead walking up some hotel steps in a long coat with no purse or clutch. Of course, the tag line was some ridiculous commentary on her outfit and how she must be being paid far more than any other Director or she was receiving ‘gifts’ from a certain older man. The older man was not mentioned, but there were plenty of possible targets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think the Director would appreciate this,” Ziva warned. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“Oh, come on, do you know how much that fur coat would cost?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Jenny doesn’t wear fur,” Ziva assured. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“And how would you know? McGee, is this, not a real fur coat?” McGee approached, pondering if this was another way to be teased but glanced at the picture. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s not real, it’s a really expensive fake,” McGee assured, somewhat surprised at the quality. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“Trust me; Jenny doesn’t wear ferret.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Mink,” McGee corrected. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“She doesn’t wear that either,” Ziva responded and glanced up, knowing her two teammates were about to be slapped. And sure enough, seconds later, both men’s heads went forward as their Boss whacked them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back to work!” Gibbs snapped, glancing down at the picture.  “Nice faux fur,” he added, glancing at the picture. “Officer David, I believe you’re wanted upstairs.”  Ziva quickly got to her feet and turned to head up to the Director’s office. She leaned over Tony’s desk for a minute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Told you so,” she whispered and moved on her way. Tony and McGee exchanged a look.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“DiNozzo! Where is your case report?” Gibbs shouted across the ten-foot space. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Working on it, Boss,” Tony replied, cringing and began to work again with a renewed vigor.  From the catwalk above the squad room, two women watched in amusement and withheld little laughter until the one handed the other the tabloid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re mentioned on page five,” Ziva informed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I now?” Jenny responded. “With whom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A mink fur coat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate fur. That’s awful!” She sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That may have been a gift…”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“From?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Oh, they had a list of individuals.” </span></p>
<p><span>“Who brought it in?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“DiNozzo.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Should’ve known,” she paused, reading it before chuckling softly. Ziva looked over. “She prefers margaritas to wine and enjoys giving the media little sneak peeks.” She read. “Honestly, am I the best celebrity they have right now?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Well…” Ziva faded off, knowing she could give a list of reasons but figuring that Jenny would not want to hear it.  “I could have them killed.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Nah,” Jenny laughed. “Not worth the energy.” Ziva nodded and began to move back downstairs. “Ziva?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Director?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“See if you can make it clear I don’t want this discussed.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Not a problem,” Ziva answered, continuing down the stairs. She was quick enough to notice Gibbs glance up at her and then past her to Jenny, and she would have bet money that they had a conversation that ended in laugher. </span><em><span>Good for you, Jen</span></em><span>, the younger woman thought. </span></p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>That's not her style, I can tell you</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>That ain't my woman</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>It's just not her style I can tell you</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Because I'm her man</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just hours later that Jenny walked through a front door and down into a specific basement. She had managed to get out early when the SecNav canceled a meeting, and she had gone home to change into jeans and a loose top before driving over to the house where she spent most of her nights. She was meticulous, giving her detail the night off and taking a roundabout way, so anyone following her was thoroughly confused. She went down the steps and spotted him working on his boat as usual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You get followed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope, apparently I’m only trailed to more high profile events,” she replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tony’s convinced you like fur coats.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As if,” she responded.  He looked her over, enjoying the view she presented. No one else got to see the Jenny he did. The relaxed, happy one, who would smile for the hell of it and laugh because she felt like it. She was not exactly what one would call high maintenance, and she had no problems with getting her hands dirty, as was evident when she came straight up and kissed him on the cheek. “Hi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” he replied, kissing her lips softly and wrapping his arms around her. She didn’t mind that he was covered in sawdust, and she turned his arms so she could help him sand the boat.  It was an excellent way to spend working nights until they got bored or tired and decided that it was time for sleep or not sleep, depending.  This new run at a relationship was easily slipped into, and though they fought, somehow the fights were always better by the next day. The team still hadn’t figured out how that happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>The papers say she was seen in L.A. with a stranger</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>She found a perfect body with a Maserati right outside</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>And then she chartered a Lear</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>When she heard her career was in danger</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>And gave the pilot somethin' extra for a perfect ride</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just two weeks later that she was rushing from a dinner in LA, filled with mindless politicians, that the papers got something to talk about. Jen had called an old friend, one who had worked with both her and Gibbs in Europe and had called in a favor to get a ride to the airport and find a plane for immediate departure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Naturally, the media thoroughly enjoyed her getting into a red Maserati with a gentleman driving. She didn’t really care, though; she was far too worried about caring. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“What’s happened, Jenny?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Gibbs happened, Randy!” she snapped. And the man knew not to say another word, but he couldn’t quite help the faint grin that spread across his face. It looked like he knew a few people who owed him money from three years ago. </span></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I give it three months before they’re back together,” Linda bet over the conference line from San Diego.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No way, Gibbs was a total wreck. I mean, he married Stephanie, for crying out loud. I give it a year and a half,” Robert countered. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, good point,” Randy agreed. “Still, Jenny needs to get her bearings, and Gibbs is going to give her a hard time. I’ll go for three years.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Way too long if you ask me,” Linda remarked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>“This is Gibbs and Jenny we’re talking about,” Robert reminded. “Those two could use their heads smashed together.”</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>“We could always lock them in a small room?” Randy suggested.</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You think they know that was Ducky?” Linda inquired, remembering some of their past exploits. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you so happy about?” Jenny questioned. Randy looked over at the redhead who was desperately trying to remain in her Director façade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Jenny, chill. It’s Gibbs; the man cheats death on a regular basis.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for that reminder,” she commented sarcastically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, sheesh. I didn’t know you two were…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re not, we weren’t.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Uh-huh, tell that to someone who didn’t know you eight years ago,” he sighed. </span><em><span>Still in need of head bashing.</span></em><span>  “So what’s he done now?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Randy, just drive the damn car.” Nothing more was said, and she got out at the airport and thanked him politely, but he could still notice the fear. As he turned the radio on his way back to the house heard the gossip surrounding her that her career was in danger, but he knew that to be propaganda. Jennifer Shepard would not fear damage to her career because she could handle that, she could not handle her former partner injured or hurt, so when he heard the news of a shoot out involving NCIS agents in Norfolk, he knew the real reason.  He still enjoyed the headlines that were printed the next day and what he read in the LA Times gossip section. He read them aloud to his wife.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Director of NCIS has a new man in her life, one with a high priced car, and excellent body….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It does not say the excellent body.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Linda, would I ever lie to you?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“You need to remember Rule 8, be convincing when you lie. That and Jenny never looked at you twice.”</span></p>
<p><span>“You think she’s going to tell Gibbs we broke Rule 12?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Not if she doesn’t want me to call her a hypocrite.”</span></p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>That's not her style I can tell you</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>That ain't my woman</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>It's just not her style I can tell you</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Because I'm her man</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jenny had the town car take her straight to the hospital. She didn’t care that there was work to be done; she needed to make sure he was all right. She had only caught the tail end of the report, but it certainly explained why he hadn’t called her, and so now she was worried. She entered the hospital, a woman on a mission, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. She spotted Abby just inside the ER doors and glanced at the nurse. She could either fight with the nurse, or she picked up her phone and dialed Abby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Abby here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Abby, open the door to ER.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Director?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Now, Abbs,” Jenny ordered. The Goth looked up and spotted the redhead, quickly opening the doors and letting her slip in. “What happened?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Ziva and Tony are okay; McGee was with me, but Gibbs…” She pointed down the hall towards one of the rooms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s Ducky?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With Gibbs and the Doctors,” The young woman answered and then spontaneously threw her arms around Jenny, hugging her. Jenny felt a rush of maternal affection for the younger woman and hugged her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jenny,” Ziva called from behind them, and Jenny let Abby go to turn to her friend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ziva, what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We just got into a little cat-fight,” Ziva replied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, you look like you went ten rounds with a tiger.”  Ziva chuckled and gestured down the hallway. They passed one room where McGee was sitting with Tony listening to the man’s ramblings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tony is thoroughly enjoying the pain killers and the nurses,” Ziva informed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I bet,” Jenny agreed, withholding her smile. It was good to see Tony back to the classic DiNozzo.  She took a deep breath as Ziva and Abby waited near one door in particular. She knew they would let her have her alone time with Gibbs, and she smiled gratefully, entering the room. Memories came rushing back to her, times when she thought she might never see his blue eyes again, but she withheld her tears and sighed in relief. He was asleep but did not appear to be in pain. Ducky was standing next to the bed talking to a doctor she recognized all too well. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of all the doctors, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Director,” Ducky greeted. “I thought you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Conference finished early,” she lied, the good doctor knew she had as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You remember Dr. Gelfand, yes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, of course,” Jenny responded, nodding her greeting. She looked back at Ducky and met his eyes, begging for a minute alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m sure you can fill the Director in; I’ll check on my other patients,” Todd said, leaving. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“He was the doctor on call,” Ducky told her. “And as usual, Gibbs has cheated death.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“That’s good to hear,” Jenny sighed, dropping her purse and coat in a chair and standing beside the bed. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve heard you made the headlines.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let them talk,” Jenny countered, but Ducky’s consistent stare was irritating. “Randy owed me a favor; he always liked the flashy cars.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“And how is he?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Doing well, he and Linda had another kid, and…” she faded off as she felt the gentle squeezing on her hand that she’d intertwined with Gibbs’. She looked down at him and found his blue eyes open and twinkling with mischief. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“I always thought you knew about that,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah Jethro, welcome back, old friend,” Ducky greeted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Duck…how’s the team?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re fine, Jethro; I’m sure the Director could tell you more. I’ll just go check up on Anthony.” Ducky smirked as he left and turned back just as the door was closing to watch Jenny lean down and kiss Gibbs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” she greeted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t you supposed to be in LA?” He questioned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was, came back early. It was boring anyway,” she replied, and he knew she had come back because she was worried. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“I didn’t think it was on the news.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“I only caught the tail end of the report, but you hadn’t called, so I was already worried,” she explained. “Besides, it was good to see Randy again.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“And Linda.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Linda was home with the kids,” Jenny said. “They just had a baby boy.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Oh, really?” Gibbs remarked. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Now Jethro…” She trailed off warningly. “Linda doesn’t even work for NCIS anymore, so no complaining about Rule 12. Besides, you’re breaking your own rule.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is hardly the same; it’s different.” She laughed softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you want to tell me what happened?” Jenny inquired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t you talk to Ziva or Tony?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tony is on pain killers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, say no more. What did he do this time?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Something about a cat…”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Yea, well, we didn’t know there was going to be a tiger there.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“A tiger?”</span></p>
<p><span>“Well, it was a guy dressed in one of those mascot suits, and we didn’t know he was carrying, and then there was the rest of his group. It was interesting.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“How’d you get shot?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“I didn’t,” he answered, patting his side. “Knife.” Apparently, that wasn’t the best way to put it because he noticed her eyes cloud over in tears and could see her trying so very hard to put on a brave face.  He reached his hand as best he could and rubbed it up and down her arm, comfortingly.  “Jen…”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“You and your team are doing deskwork,” she said finally. “You are like magnets for trouble.” </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Jenny,” he countered his tone a warning, “No desk work.” He kissed her hand softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Desk work for two weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” she pouted slightly but agreed nonetheless. Gibbs patted the space beside him on the bed, and she sat down, slipping off her shoes before curling up beside him, taking great care to stay away from the injuries and wires. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re home,” he whispered into her ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But those newspapers…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jethro, shut up,” she teased, kissing him softly. They never noticed the audience they had attracted but would have been glad to know that those viewing the tender moment were not gossipers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Not that she's never done something crazy or done something wild</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>It's just that she's better at doing whatever suits her style</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>And that's not her style</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gibbs is going to kill us,” Tony commented as he watched yet another man come up and kiss the Director’s hand, and no doubt making another comment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Relax, Tony,” Ziva laughed, her eyes never leaving her friend’s form. “She can handle a few old men.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A few? Ziva, there’s like fifty that have made a pass at her in an hour,” Tony protested.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“It’s not like she isn’t used to it,” McGee piped up from the other side of the room through the communication links. “I can’t imagine she’s never had anyone make a pass at her.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“You know she can hear us,” Ziva pointed out as Jenny glanced over at them briefly.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“No, she can’t,” McGee assured. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“Trust me; she’s listening.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Oh, hold up,” Tony interrupted the bickering. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“What now, DiNozzo?” Ziva glanced over at the Director again and found her kissing the cheek of another man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now Gibbs is going to kill us.” Tony made to move closer to the Director, but Ziva had beaten him to it, and he could now overhear the conversations.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Randy, so nice to see you again.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Jenny, you’re looking lovely; I can’t believe you were allowed out.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I wasn’t allowed out alone,” Jenny replied, gesturing toward Ziva, who had slipped up behind her. Ziva simply nodded. “DiNozzo worried yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only a bit more than a lot,” Ziva responded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,”  Randy smirked at the words between the women.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me guess, Gibbs sent his whole team to make sure you’d be safe. Surprised he didn’t wire you like that time in…” He felt his head go forward.  “Hi, Boss.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Randy.” Gibbs nodded at Ziva, who made herself scarce and retreated to Tony’s side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly, Jethro,” Jenny sighed, knowing she should protest but finding it far too amusing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was only doing his wife a favor,” Gibbs replied, gesturing to the woman approaching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jenny, it’s been ages!” Linda greeted, and the two women exchanged two kisses on each cheek. “Robert is here someplace, just ran into him and told him the bad news.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bad news?” Jenny questioned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh…” She looked over at her husband, who shook his head. “Yes, the flowers he sent us for the baby died within the first week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, they’re just flowers,” Gibbs assured. Randy and Linda nodded enthusiastically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Speak of the devil,” Jenny muttered as another man approached.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, well, Director of NCIS, and her bloodhounds.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Robert.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Hiya Boss,” Robert quickly subdued himself.  “So, does the Director have time for a dance with an old friend?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“The Director is not dancing tonight,” Gibbs answered for her. Jenny put her hands on her hips, looking none too pleased. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon Boss; I’ll have her back in time for curfew,” Robert pleaded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Robbie,” Linda hissed, and the man looked over at the couple and noticed them roll their eyes in Jenny and Gibbs’ director. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh damn, really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really,” Randy assured. Robert sighed and pulled out his wallet, handing Randy a fifty-dollar bill.  Randy looked at it for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, isn’t this the one…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The exact same; I figured it was sacred.” Gibbs reached around both men and slapped them upside the head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would have thought you two grew out of that,” He sighed. “Linda…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t look at me; it was all Jenny.” Gibbs turned to meet Jenny’s eye, who was trying to look innocent but glared briefly at Linda. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the fifty dollar bill about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have no idea what she’s talking about, Jethro,” Jenny defended. He took one step toward her, and the former team and current team waited with bated breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not seriously going…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s never done it before…” were whispered all the way around. Jenny held one hand up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Desk work Jethro, is easily arranged,” she taunted, and Gibbs nodded, but Jenny knew the conversation was far from over. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“Ziva,” Gibbs called said through the communications, and the young woman meandered her way over. “Fifty bucks for?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Ziva…” Jenny warned, but it turned out Ziva needn’t say a word as Tony and McGee came over, followed by Ducky, who noticed the bill.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t that the bill Jethro used in London?” He inquired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So much for that secret,” Robbie sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Ducky,” Gibbs answered, having no trouble placing the memory.  He gestured to Robbie and Randy again. They came closer. WHACK.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knew nothing, saw nothing,” they recited. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“DiNozzo!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right here, Boss,” Tony answered thoroughly amused that someone else had gotten whacked till he felt his head go forward. “Giving Ziva back the money, got it, boss.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did I get stuck with you all?” Gibbs sighed aloud, he turned to Ducky, who handed him a tumbler filled with bourbon, and behind his back, Jenny held out her hand for the bill. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did we let you bet with us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cause you all wanted to lose,” she replied, sliding the bill into her clutch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Director placing bets?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She wasn’t the Director when that one was placed,” Gibbs announced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You knew, he knew?” Linda guessed and pointing at Jenny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did not. I didn’t know he knew about this particular bet; I knew he knew about others,” Jenny answered, sounding every inch the Director. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So very Jenny like,” Linda said, and Ziva laughed in agreement, and the two women began to chat; eventually, the group broke up. Tony and McGee were staying close only till Gibbs nodded that they could go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So they made a bet, and Robbie won, and they made another bet, and Randy won.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Robbie bet you wouldn’t let me dance on the bar,” She remarked, noticing the faint smile that took over his face. “And I haven’t got a clue as to what Randy won a bet for. He always lost these things,” she commented. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, if Randy and Robbie finally grew up, maybe there’s hope for DiNozzo,” Gibbs said nonchalantly.  He glanced at his current team to find them trying not to watch their conversation. “On second thought, it is DiNozzo.” Jenny laughed, knowing there was pride behind that comment. She may not have known them initially, but she could see that Tony was the son Gibbs never had, and all the hard-ass comments were simply signs of affection. “So, how many other bets do you know about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The only reason I heard about that one was that Linda asked me just how drunk I was,” Jenny replied.  Gibbs smirked at that; Jenny hadn’t even finished one drink when he’d convinced her to do it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It accomplished the goal. We got the bad guy,” he reminded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm.” She agreed. “So I think I’ve spent enough time kissing asses…” she trailed off.  He smiled briefly. “Take me home?”  Perhaps it was all the memories, but he knew that those were the words she had whispered in his ear after their little trip to the bar in London. He simply nodded and placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her through the crowd, signaling to his current team that they could go.  His former squad watched from afar and simply laughed. Everything was as it should be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I've read where it's said that she sleeps in a bed made of satin</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>She's had her face done in every place you can try</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>They say she gets a piece of every lease in Manhattan</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>And says she's thirty when she's really pushing forty-five</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled as he picked up the paper the following morning and read the gossip section. He entered the bedroom, trying not to make a sound and wake his companion. She was curled up on his side in a bed most defiantly not made of satin, and he moved her slightly, sliding back in bed beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and continued to read the paper, a permanent smile etched on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s so funny?” She questioned sleepily. He looked down at her to find her bleary green eyes open. He leaned down and kissed her good morning. “Hi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi yourself,” he greeted softly, kissing her again. “And the paper is what’s amusing.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Don’t tell me you read the gossip section?”  She shifted, so she was leaning against him, sitting up and looked over his shoulder. “Leroy Jethro Gibbs, you are a strange man.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“But I’m your man.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“That’s true,” she replied, kissing him much more passionately. They broke off grinning at each other, and she flipped the page to another column featuring her and began to laugh out loud.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, that sounds amusing.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“No, it’s just…. I think I like these reporters,” she pointed out the small print. He squinted, trying to read it, and she read it aloud. “The thirty-year-old Director is the youngest in history and is clearly a favorite among the other older men. Thirty, they think I’m thirty.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“You look thirty,” he replied. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweet Jethro, really, but honestly, we both know thirty I am not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t tell,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. “Though it seriously makes you question where they get their facts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My birthrate is not so hard to find out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope, it’s not,” he put the paper down on the nightstand and shifted, so he was leaning over her slightly. “So what is it, forty-five…” She tilted her head up to capture his lips, effectively silencing the reminder of how old she really was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re still older,” she reminded as they broke for air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently, I’m not old enough to be counted among the men…” he trailed off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should take it as a compliment; they’re all a few years younger than you,” she remarked, kissing him again. Things were barely progressing when both phones started ringing. They broke apart again, foreheads resting against each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We need a vacation,” she sighed, rolling over to grab her phone as he picked up his.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Gibbs.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Shepard.” They both hung up a minute and a half later.  “Cynthia says you have a case, and your team is freaking out.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, they’re going to wish they’d let me sleep in, coming in?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yea…I’ll do some work or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feel like playing agent?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do that,” she laughed, searching for her jeans and sneakers. He pulled her back for a second, kissing her soundly. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“No taking over.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she assured, kissing him back. She glanced out the window for a second and remembered the one small problem. “Ah, Jethro, I don’t have my car.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Stalled; I picked you up on the way; the scene is ten minutes from your house.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” she agreed as they got ready. “Shower together or separate?” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her along to the shower. They were a bit late to the crime scene that day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>That's not her style I can tell you</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>That ain't my woman</em>
  </b>
  <b></b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  
  <b>
    <em>It's just not her style I can tell you</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
  <b></b>
  <em>Because I'm her man</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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